Page 152 of This Woman Forever

“Please.” It would help a great deal.

“Your wife is expecting twins.”

“Oh fuck.” Twins. “I had a feeling you were going to say that.” Is this the universe telling me to start opening my mouth on a few things?

Yes, you fucker. Tell her about me.

“Watch your damn mouth,” I breathe, looking at Ava, wondering what she’s thinking. By her face, she’s not thinking at all. She looks spaced out. “Baby?—”

“About six weeks, I would say,” the doctor muses.

Six weeks? I start mentally counting back through time. My God, all this time? All this fucking time I’ve been stressing, wondering if I’m broken, she’s been pregnant? With fucking twins? And drinking. She’s been drinking. My teeth grit.

“I’m sorry, that can’t be right,” Ava says as I watch her look between the screen and the doctor. “I’ve had a period within that time and was on the pill previous to that.”

Yes, she had a period. Didn’t she? When? My head feels like it could pop. “You had a period?” the doctor asks, getting a very sure, assertive, yes, from Ava. “That’s not unusual. Let me do some measurements.”

Measurements?

Yes, right. Measure the babies.

Plural.

Twins? How the fuck did this happen?

Need me to walk you through that, bro?

Ava’s now lying back, eyes closed as the doctor does his thing. She’s completely relaxed. I can feel her energy, and I honestly don’t know what to make of it. She’s not freaking out, which is ironic, because here’s me freaking the fuck out.

I didn’t bargain for this when I stole her pills.

Is this what they call karma?

I look between the screen and Ava, watching as she stares, rapt by the squirming blobs. And Jake continues to laugh his dead head off in heaven. This seesaw of emotions is too much. I started my day on cloud nine. Passion for breakfast, fury for brunch, terror for lunch, despair for dinner, and now complete and utter wonder for supper.

Twins?

You better be talking about me by the end of the day, brother, or I’ll never talk to you again.

I huff. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Mr. Ward?”

“What?” I blurt, jarred from my moment. The doctor’s smiling at me. Ava is half-smiling, half fascinated.

“Your babies.” He holds a scrap of paper across the bed.

I accept on a mumbled thank you and stare down at the black and white image, hearing the doctor talking to Ava, but what he’s saying I don’t know. I’m... mesmerized. I tilt my head one way, then the other, studying the image.

“Are you ready?”

“What?” I murmur, eyes on the picture.

“Are you ready?”

We can go home? “Sure.” I stand. How big should they be at six weeks? Big enough to see, I’m sure. I look at Ava. She’s dressing. Her stomach is definitely a little rounder. Isn’t it any wonder? Twins.

How many times have you got to say it before you believe it?